


Remember Me

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a yearly tradition, George visits his brother in the middle of nowhere, five miles from their house, in a field full of yellow daisies, lilacs, and a memorable tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember Me

George cleared his throat and fixed his tie, letting out a slow, shaky breath.  This was going to be hard.

 

He looked around him at the wide open field, at the scatterings of lilacs and yellow daisies.  It always amazed him that Fred had found this place, had claimed it as theirs when they were just so little.

 

_“George, look!  Come look!  C’mon, look!  George!” Fred hollered, jumping up and down and flailing around wildly._

_His twin brother ran through the tall grass and the myriad of flowers before trampling Fred over and giggling madly as the two fell to the ground, rolling around and play-fighting.  When they finally calmed, Fred sat up and smiled crookedly, his little baby teeth showing._

_“Guess what I did!” he exclaimed, punching George in the arm, “We’re gonna live a race, okay, George?  I put a tick mark for every year we’ve been alive.  Look.”_

_Fred pointed to the only tree that grew in the meadow, and George jumped to his feet, running over to touch the indents with his fingers.  Both of their names were scratched in with eight marks under each._

_“Isn’t that cool?  We can come back every year and put up another mark, and, if we forget, well, then we’ll just do it the year after!”_

_“That’s awesome!” George laughed, “The whole world is gonna know we exist!  We’re gonna be famous!”_

He remembered hearing himself saying that and feeling so excited about the prospect of being famous.  Now, he wanted nothing more than to disappear, to be invisible.  He wanted no one to know he existed, and he didn’t want anyone to know his name.

 

He sighed, looking down as he stepped into the field of flowers.  They’d come back, every single year, and the tradition had grown sentimental and as a time of bonding for the twins.  It wasn’t as though they _didn’t_ bond regularly, but they were able to let go and be free when they were in this field, alone and happy.  They used it to reflect, to share secrets, to live.

 

_“Dad, we’re going out!” George yelled up the stairs, grabbing his jacket and throwing Fred’s hat at him._

_“Oh, euw!” his twin cried playfully, swatting the handmade hat away, “That’s got mom’s cooties on it!” he continued, writhing in his chair._

_“Ass,” George chuckled, buttoning up his jacket and heading for the door, “Would you hurry up?  We’re never gonna get there at this rate.”_

_“Oh, please.  It’s not that far of a walk, dofus.”_

_“Where are you going?” dad called from upstairs._

_“Out!” Fred hollered before yanking his coat off the hanger, pulling his scarf with it, and pushing George out the door._

_“You’re a slowpoke.”_

_“Am not,” George teased, shoving his brother as they started walking, “We gotta be home by six, don’t forget.  Mom will kill us if we’re late.”_

_“We’re always late.”_

_“Yea, true.  Especially for birthday dinners.”_

_They both laughed, smirking.  Dinner was at seven.  Mom had given them an hour to get home, like always.  They journey down the long dirt road leading away from their house, chatting amiably, joking and playing occasionally.  After the third mile, they veer off the road and head through the woods, traveling over a path they’ve created with their own feet over the years.  When they finally arrive at the edge of the woods, both boys stop and smile.  A silence fills them as they take in the stretch of grass and flowers._

_“Bet I can still beat you!” Fred yelled suddenly, taking off._

_George threw a verbal curse at him before sprinting after him, and the two ended up tumbling over at the foot of their tree, wrestling and laughing._

George had forgotten to return to these familiar flowers last year as he’d hated his birthday.  He’d spent the entire day locked in his room going through scrapbooks and Weasley Wizard Wheezes pamphlets and advertisements just to see his handwriting and hear his excitement.

 

All of his brothers had taken their turns trying to coax him out, but none succeeded.  Ginny, his only sister, bless her, had crawled through the window, rolling her eyes as she nearly fell on the floor.

 

“You live on the highest floor, y’know,” she’d grumbled before plopping herself on the bed next to George, scooting back against the wall, and leaning her head on his shoulder, “Wanna tell me about him?  Like I never knew him?”

 

It was just what he’d needed.

 

_“Dude, we’re seventeen.  This is, like, our last year at Hogwarts,” George said as he slowly carved his mark into the tree._

_Fred elbowed him, coughing as if to cover it up._

_“Ass,” George chuckled under his breath, elbowing him back._

_Fred didn’t reciprocate, but instead sighed, “Who even knows if we’re going back.  Heck, maybe we should skip.”_

_“You’re dumb.  Mom would have a fit.  Let’s just go for half,” he added with a smirk._

_“Absolutely.  Pinky promise?”_

_“Dude!” George exclaimed, pocketing his wand and holding out his pinky.  The two brothers hooked fingers, smiling._

_“I’m kind of scared to go back, what with the war and everything.  I don’t really wanna see what it’s doing to everyone, especially Harry.  Have you seen him lately?  He’s a mess.”_

_“True.  Fred, what’re we gonna do if Harry goes crazy and takes Ronald with him?  Mom would be a mess, y’know.”_

_Fred laughed, shaking his head, “Harry’s already crazy, stupid.  C’mon, speaking of mom, she’s gonna kill us if we don’t get back soon.”_

George sighed as he stopped, halfway toward the tree.  Why was this so hard?  He remembered Fred’s excitement at maybe forgetting a year; he didn’t feel that after missing last year.  He was dreading it now.

 

He remembered smiling down at Ginny and telling her about this one time he and Fred set the girl’s bathroom on fire on accident, and how they’d blamed it entirely on Percy.  He remembered the whole scene perfectly, hearing Fred laugh like a maniac, falling all over the place because he couldn’t believe their lie had been bought.  He was hysterical.  He remembered laughing just as hard, and he remembered when they finally got back to the common room, how Harry and Ron had looked at them like they four heads when they just stumbled by, gasping for breath, tears cascading down their cheeks, and red in the face from how hard they laughed.  It was one of their greatest days.

 

He remembered telling her everything, every single story behind every single picture.  They’d always kept a scrapbook, for every year, just for the hell of it.  Molly had started it when they were first born, and they’d instantly picked it up their first year of Hogwarts.  She’d carried it throughout the eleven years before that, and their entire life could be seen in these books.

 

_“George!”_

_He’d never heard his brother’s voice sound like that before._

_“George!”_

_He ran in the direction of the voice, heart scared._

_“George, help!”_

_When he finally crashed through the trees, the grass was dead and brown, the flowers had wilted, and the tree was aflame._

He had this nightmare every once in a while, and he’d had it recently, which had reminded him of this field.  He sucked in a breath, gritted his teeth, and marched forward, determined.

 

It wasn’t a long walk.  The field was large, yes, but George was fast and resolute.  He remembered his brother’s words in his ears as he gulped and got ready to ask out his first girlfriend.

 

_“You can do it.  I know you can.  Besides, if she says no, I’ll ask her, she’ll say yes, and then you can date her.  Okay?  I’m always here for you, George.  I’m your twin.  No one can ever separate us.  I love you.”_

 

He always said things like that before George had to do anything major.  He’d always appreciated it, and he’d never told him.

 

As he reached the tree, a tear pricked the corner of his eye.  Nineteen marks were underneath both of their names, and George was twenty today.  A piece of paper was pinned over Fred’s name, and he pulled it off of the tree.

 

_I told you not to forget, stupid.  I love you.  Be strong._

He knew Fred hadn’t been here last year, he knew he’d left a will, and, though he hadn’t read it, he’d known that this tree was in it, that there was a little p.s. to his mom.  He knew.  But still.

 

He lifted his wand, and, slowly, drew a twentieth mark in his name.  On the backside of the paper, he quietly scribbled a note back.  Wiping away his eyes, he pinned it back to the tree, over their names, and headed out, heart light.

 

_I beat you this time.  I love you.  Remember me._


End file.
